Page 32 of Golden Burn

“I mean, I can wait outside the door each night while you two have some privacy,” I say.

Ford laughs, his big chest bouncing. “Jesus, Etta. No.”

Groaning, I go back to applying my makeup. It’s not as easy as I remember, but the step-by-step process is soothing. I have to re-do my eyeliner three times before I’m happy with the flick. Once I’m done, I take my time to appreciate the features I’ve highlighted and the rush of warmth that fills my belly.

Ford falls asleep while I’m working on my face and Dom is so engrossed in his work that he barely blinks. Needing to stretch my legs out, I rise to my feet and grab the phone, habit encouraging me to take photos to keep as evidence for later.

Dismissing that ridiculous idea with a click of my tongue, I swivel to survey the rest of the plane. My focus lands on Odin with his back to me. Ugh. So predictable.

Taking my phone out of my pocket, I open up the text section and type out a message.

Etta:Do you snore?

The response is a few seconds delayed. There’s no ‘typing’ bubble toindicate he’s replying, so when he does, it sends a jolt under my skin.

Odin:No.

Etta:But how do you know? You sleep alone.

Odin:I know.

Etta:Are we sharing a bed at this next place?

Odin:No.

Etta:A bathroom?

Odin:You get one more question and then I’m silencing you.

Etta:You must have been the type of person to lock all your Sims in a room and set them on fire.

Odin:Never played it. Besides, why would I do it in a game when I can do it in real life?

Etta:That’s a bit dramatic.

His shoulders move, his chin turning. I collapse into my seat, hiding from view, and ask another burning question.

Etta:What’s your star sign?

Odin:Question time is over.

Etta:Definitely a Scorpio.

I laugh to myself, because if I don’t, tears will flow instead. The unfamiliar sensations inside of me, stirred to life by the weird text exchange with my fiancé/kidnapper, are put aside to assess later when Ford’s voice floats over to me. “You look pretty.”

My cheeks redden further. “Thanks.”

“Can you do it to me?”

“What?”

Ford stands up and comes over to my side of the plane, taking a seat opposite me. His body is so big even the extra-large private jet chairs seem small in comparison.

I’m gawking. “Are you sure?”

“I’m confident in my masculinity, Etta.”

“Oh, I can tell,” I giggle as I tentatively smooth out Ford’s thick eyebrows. Nervous but elated, I take the foundation bottle and squeeze the pump until a small puddle fills my palm. “I’m going to make Dom fall to his knees.”

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